


Jack Daniels & Ginger Beer

by vmdraco



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Drunk Doctor (Doctor Who), Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 00:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17131502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vmdraco/pseuds/vmdraco
Summary: Much to her amazement, Martha finds the Doctor sloshed on New New Earth for no apparent reason.  She didn't expect the long night ahead of her, dealing with a drunk Time Lord she barely knows.Oneshot, takes place after Gridlock.





	Jack Daniels & Ginger Beer

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! This is kinda random but I felt the need to update this fic. It used to be called “Cuddles and Ginger Beer” but I decided to revamp it and update it with writing that is a lot more polished and less obnoxious. Idk why but I kinda stumbled upon this story in my files and had the urge. Hilariously enough, I’ve been a bit tipsy as I worked my way through it lol The bulk of it is the same, but a lot of stuff has been added and removed. 
> 
> This story used to be up here, but I removed it because after a while I didn't really like it. But it's back now! :)

It felt like mere minutes since Martha fell asleep, yet the moment she opened her eyes she could have sworn her head had just hit the pillow. Checking the time was of no use to her in a time machine, and she hoped that she got plenty of hours. She didn’t feel as though she received a well-needed rest after traveling. Her eyes felt dry and irritated, as well as ridiculously heavy. Being away from her bed at home was difficult to adjust to. 

Stretching and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she got out of bed and drifted lazily to the bathroom to brush her teeth and neaten her messy hair just in case she ran into the Time Lord. She blushed at the thought of it, immediately chastising herself for it. It was foolish, to have a silly little crush on him, not that he cared to notice. Yet, she didn’t hear a single switch go off just around the corner, and Martha assumed that the Doctor had already landed somewhere and was waiting for her. She didn’t expect anything in particular, at least after their trip to meet Shakespeare, but going on another trip was worth the lack of reciprocation. She was having fun, if the running for your life part counted as fun. 

Still in her vest top and shorts, she went below the console room to make herself a nice cup of tea as thoughts of the last view days flickered in her mind. She remembered that the Time Lord kept a small kitchen and already took advantage of it despite only traveling in the TARDIS for a short time. As she was finishing her tea the Doctor was nowhere to be seen. 

_I’ll give him a few more minutes, then. He can’t be too far, anyway._

She entered the fridge to find that there wasn’t much there, considering he could go anywhere in space and time as he pleased to grab something better. Sighing as her stomach growled, she shut the fridge and noticed something dropping from the top. Furrowing her eyebrows, she bent down to immediately recognize the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver, which made her widen her eyes in amazement. 

“How can he forget his sonic screwdriver?” she asked herself, holding the device in her hands before pocketing it.

Martha began to worry just by the knowledge of his sonic screwdriver being left behind, knowing that it was practically his third hand. Even worse is that he could have landed someplace she’s never been to before, with him roaming about alone. Feeling much too tired to even deal with the concept, she rubbed her face as she stood back up, ready to slap him silly if he did indeed just abandon her somewhere in time. 

“Doctor!” she shouted as she exited the kitchen, hoping that he would answer her, but to no avail. “Doctor, for god’s sake! Where are you?” She didn’t know much about the TARDIS, but she did the best she could in looking for him in the nearby rooms. It was subtle, but she felt as though the TARDIS was helping her by not showing many rooms at all, indicating to her that there wasn’t a need to check them. She shook her head, unsure of how she understood anything about the ship, even though part of her knew that it was alive in some way. Running back to the jump seat, she shouted his name one last time before giving up, growling to herself at his lack of guidance.

She burst the TARDIS doors open, aggravated and desperate, only to halt in surprise. The TARDIS was parked in an alley, and if she could tell, she was parked in New New York again, around the evening if the dark sky gave the time away. Weren’t they just here? She wondered if he skipped backward in time, before the lower sections of the city were cut off and forced onto highways for decades. She stared at the many skyscrapers and floating aircrafts that littered the midnight sky, and she knew immediately that it was indeed the year 5 billion and something or other. Several unknown species, including catkind, humans, and unrecognizable humanoid species walked the streets past her as she cautiously walked out of the alley and away from the time machine. The pedestrians stared at her in confusion as Martha stood outside barefoot and hardly clothed but continued on their way without a second glance. Martha assumed they had seen weirder.

 _Well… it_ is _New York. Some things never change, even in the year 5 billion._

From across the street, she noticed what she presumed to be a bar that lit up the area like a match in a dark room. The street she was on looked like a smaller residential area outside of the capitol, hence the shops and street lights being the only things illuminating the area. She didn’t know why, but she took that as a clue, despite no evidence to the contrary, and crossed over to the other street without getting run over by floating vehicles. Despite being partially dressed without shoes, she entered the bar feeling irritated yet worried simultaneously. Again, no one seemed to care about the human woman in her pajamas. She feared the Doctor might be hurt or in trouble and searched all around the place to catch a glimpse of his familiar overcoat with his brown, pinstriped suit. The bar was rather large, and probably had a second floor, but already feeling exhausted and fueled by anger Martha took a seat at the nearest booth and huffed to herself.

“I wonder if he does this to all his companions,” she wondered, holding her head with her hand. “Or maybe it’s just _me_. He sure as hell wouldn’t do this to _Rose_ , that’s for sure. Whoever the hell she is.” 

And then suddenly, she saw him. Said bar did in fact have a second floor, for the person she was desperately looking for was sauntering down the steps in an uncoordinated fashion. His cheeks were a bit flushed, an eager smile on his lips as he passed her obliviously on his way to a bar stool. He was talking with a woman, her attire scantily clad with a crop top and a short skirt, her skin an olive green. A glass of amber-colored liquid was in one of his hands, with a beer brand she couldn’t decipher in the other. How he wasn’t spilling either one, she had no clue.

 _Superior Time Lord biology my arse._

She had to gap and stare for a moment, hardly able to believe it. She couldn’t imagine the Doctor as someone who would drink for a good time, or drink much at all for that matter. Then again, there was a lot of things she didn’t know about the Doctor if she was going to be completely honest with herself. Regardless, if she wasn’t so bloody angry at him for running off without her knowledge, she would have run over and snogged the living daylights out of him from the comfort of him still being alive and out of danger. She walked over sternly the moment the git sat down at the bar, the olive-skinned bombshell gripping his arm. Now that Martha could get a better look, she could tell that this lady wasn’t being a massive flirt and seemed to be holding him steady.

She couldn’t take it anymore as she marched over, sitting directly next to the two of them as she crossed her arms, catching the attention of the woman on his arm.

“Are you with him, babe?” she asked, her accent clearly American. By her expression, Martha had a feeling that she had seen it all. 

Martha rolled her eyes, though not at the lady, who she knew based on how she was acting was not doing anything nefarious. “Unfortunately.”

The Doctor, meanwhile, seemed much too preoccupied with his booze to care about his surroundings, dumping more of the beer into his glass along with whatever else he was drinking. He was giggling—yes, _giggling_ , to her amazement—a little too much for his usual self, raising the glass to his lips to take a satisfying gulp as the olive-skinned beauty forced him to put it back down. Martha wondered who she was, and if the Doctor knew her at all. 

_Well, they certainly seem well acquainted_ , a jealous part of her thought. She would be stupid to think that the female beside him wasn’t gorgeous. 

After a minute or two, she was fed up waiting for the Doctor to notice her. “Doctor!”

Her voice wasn’t even that loud, but the Doctor nearly fell off his stool and looked at Martha before giving her a bright smile that would normally make her stomach flutter, his thin body swaying dangerously as he used the table for support.

“Why, Martha Jones, ’s so nice to see you!” he said boisterously, his gaze glassy. “’ave you met Olivia?” He gestured clumsily to the girl beside him, who gave her a tight-lipped smile that basically screamed ‘oh please, for the love of god, don’t talk about me.’ “Ain’t she sweet? Been keepin’ an eye on me all night, ‘aven’t you? Don’t need to babysit me, Martha, ‘ust out for a lil drink, is all…” His hiccup made his body jerk as he laid his head against the table. The Doctor let out a sigh at the coolness of the counterspace, which probably felt pleasant after having alcohol to warm his belly. It took all of Martha’s willpower to not strangle his pretty little neck. 

Martha was particularly alarmed by the speed in which he was drinking, watching his throat bob vigorously as he once again tried to drain his glass. The girl named Olivia quickly put a stop to it as she released him, making her way behind the counter to take the glass away. Martha immediately knew that she was the unfortunate bartender to deal with idiots like him. 

“It doesn’t look like you had _a_ drink, Doctor,” Martha growled, not hiding how displeased she was, not that the Doctor would notice. The Doctor swayed backwards, a grin still plastered on his face as he ran a hand through his—still amazing-looking—hair, making it stick out obnoxiously on his head. By now Martha was determined to get him out of his stupor, even if it meant punching him in the face. Which, at this point, was definitely a consideration. Part of her was scared of the sight in front of her, not believing that the Doctor could be so irresponsible when he literally just took her aboard. 

“Mmm, boy, even in the year 5 billion an’ 3 people aren’t sick of Jack Daniels, are they? Still tastes the same. Can hardly blame them.” He went to grab his glass but pouted when he realized it was gone. “Olivia, why’d you have to do tha’? ‘ve only had a few drinks.” 

“Doctor, where on earth have you been?” Martha said, putting a hand to his shoulder in an attempt to ground him.

Giggling again, the Doctor said, “’ve been here, of course, you silly little ape, you!” He attempted at poking her nose to emphasize his point but almost poked her in the eye instead.

“Yeah? Well _where_ is _here_? You can’t just leave me alone in the TARDIS like this! What if you ended up dead? What if I couldn’t find you? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? What if—”

“Shhhhhh….” The Doctor said, attempting at putting a finger to her lips as he stumbled on his stool, pushing poor Martha back on her seat. “You… you ‘ust need a drink, Martha, no worries.” He turned to look at Olivia, who by now was cleaning out his glass and wanted to run away. “Oh Oliiiiviaaaa,” the Doctor sing-songed, chortling in amusement at his own antics. “Be a dear, would you? Martha would like one ‘s well!”

“No, she really, _really_ wouldn’t,” Martha said, rolling her eyes as Olivia gave her a sympathetic smile. She turned to the Doctor, already fed up. “Doctor, you’ve had more than enough to drink. Go on, up you go, let’s get out of this place. I sure as hell am not done yelling at you!”

She got up from her stool and began tugging at his free arm as the other was gripping the table as though it were his favorite blanket. “Nooooo,” the Doctor whined like a child. “I don’ want to allons-y!” As Martha was unsuccessfully tugging at his arm, he turned to the bartender. “Allons-y… it-it means, ‘let’s go.’ ’s French, you know. Did you know tha’, Olivia? Do New New Yorkers know French?”

After a short minute Martha had given up, looking at Olivia with a look of defeat. “How much did he have?”

The pretty woman shrugged. “I’m guessing around… seven glasses of Jack Daniels, mixed with ginger beer? This being his eighth?” She pointed to the glass she was cleaning. “Jack Daniels isn’t the most potent, but it certainly can knock you off your ass if you’re not careful. How he’s able to down it like nothing I can’t tell you.”

Martha could only gap, both at the amount of alcohol he consumed as well as the strange combination of Jack Daniels and ginger beer. 

Martha started to realize how important it was that she got the Doctor back into the TARDIS as soon as possible. If she had to guess, the Doctor hadn’t had a drop of water in his system the moment he started. She gave him credit, though, for being able to hold as much as he did, considering his physique. She took him for a lightweight. She figured that’s how Time Lord biology was considered superior in the Doctor’s eyes. 

Martha rubbing her temples, feeling the affect of a headache coming on. “Doctor, c’mon, you have to come with me.” Her tone was tired, past the point of upset. By now she only wanted to get him to a safe place. Martha once again pulled on him, but he refused to give up his seat. 

The Doctor moaned annoyingly as he looked as though he were going to drift off to sleep. “I don’ wanna go,” he groaned. “Jus’ let me ‘ave a bit more to loosen me up. ‘s so good…” He hiccupped again, his hand to his mouth as it seemed to have surprised him. The bartender sighed, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly as her customer’s friend tried and failed at getting him away from the table. To Martha’s delight, the woman circled from behind the counter after finishing her duties and met up with the two of them on the other side.

Martha noticed how lethargic he was getting and tried to stand him up once she got him away from the stool. The Doctor was still disoriented and could hardly walk, his eyes fluttering as he stumbled in place. All the while, amazingly, he was still smiling and laughing as though everything were a joke.

“Now where we off to, then?” he slurred, getting close to Martha’s face as though he thought she didn’t hear him. “Is this a field trip? Seat belts everyone!”

“We’re getting your sorry arse back to the TARDIS, that’s where,” grumbled Martha.

Slowly yet surely, Martha as well as Olivia, supported the Doctor on the way out of the door. It took a long time due to the Doctor’s uneven footsteps (his height compared to theirs didn’t help the situation), but Martha was finally able to let the Doctor lean against something other than her own body. She let the Doctor slide down, back against the TARDIS, a goofy grin still on his face as his eyes fluttered sleepily.

The bartender looked a bit sheepish as Martha rubbed her eyes and yawned. “I’m sorry, honey,” she said to Martha. “I was just doing my job, you know.”

Martha saw the guilt in the woman’s eyes. “Seriously, there is no need to apologize. It’s his bloody fault he ended up sloshed, not yours. Still… I appreciate this _so_ much.” She gave her a reassuring smile.

Olivia smirked. “Are you two…?”

It took a little bit for Martha to catch on due to her own sleepiness, but she shook her head, her own sheepish grin on her face at the thought of it. “No, we’re not.”

The woman laughed, her smile coy. “Best news I’ve heard all day, then.”

“What do you mean?”

Olivia took out a slip of paper, smoothly sliding it into her shorts’ pocket with such grace Martha couldn’t be angry at it. “When you have some free time, shoot me a call. I’d love to see that pretty face again.”

Martha was again left speechless that night, but before she could respond the Doctor was starting to stir again.

“Martha…” Martha turned around and noticed that the Doctor was trying to sit up and failing miserably. She knelt beside the Time Lord, feeling much more patient than before.

“What’s the matter, Doctor?” she asked him, rubbing his arm.

The Doctor turned his head towards Martha’s face as he opened his eyes and was having a lot of trouble focusing. His eyes were almost black, the alcohol still surging in him stronger than ever. He mumbled, “Why’s ev’rythin’ spinnin’?”

“Because you’re drunk,” she replied simply.

The Doctor groaned softly, placing his hands on his stomach as he turned to his side. “Tummy hurts.”

Martha only shook her head, rolling her eyes as the Doctor shut his eyes again. She assumed he was trying to ignore the pounding in his skull. She couldn’t help but lift some of his hair out of his face and back against his colic, rubbing his cheek affectionately. Martha stopped herself once she noticed that Olivia was still there. Feeling bashful she stood up, sighing.

“Thank you so much for helping,” she said. “Did he pay?”

Olivia had a knowing look in her gaze, and her coy expression that she held earlier dropped. “He stopped paying some four drinks ago. At that point I just wanted him to leave before he hurts himself. Don’t even bother taking out your wallet because I honestly don’t care about that anymore. You take care of yourselves, yeah? You sure you don’t need some help getting him in?”

“Nah, I can handle it, thanks,” Martha said, feeling a little awkward. Olivia soon left with a wave and a wink in her direction as she jogged back to the bar. Martha was amazed that Olivia didn’t question why they were standing in front of a blue box, but was thankful all the same that she only asked the right questions. Not to mention that she experienced being hit on by a woman for the first time in her life. 

Martha watching her go and sighed to herself, dreading the next few minutes of having to care for a soon-to-be-sick Time Lord.

“Martha,” she heard him moan. She turned back to him and noticed how he didn’t look as jovial as he was before. He looked noticeably pale and was still holding his aching stomach, lying on his side against the TARDIS doors.

“I’m coming,” Martha sighed. “You’re going to have to move those legs again, okay? You’re good at that, so I’ve heard.” She received another groan from him, but he did nothing to protest as she counted to three and got him back on his feet. He nearly toppled on top of her, but she held him against the TARDIS doors with a hand to his chest. She felt his temperature was hotter than normal, which she knew had to do with the alcohol. When he had kissed her on the moon, she could tell that his temperature was naturally lower than a human’s. She took the key from his pocket and opened the doors, shutting them behind her and walked the best she could with the Doctor in tow.

“I wanna sit doooown,” the Doctor groaned again. He was reaching for the jump seat near the monitor, but Martha kept leading him away.

“Not until I get you to bed,” she told him, going down the hallway and praying that the TARDIS would have a room close by. Thankfully, the TARDIS took pity on the new companion and made sure to move the Doctor’s bedroom closer. 

The Doctor started smiling dopily, eyebrows raised as he clumsily reached into his pocket and put on his specks for absolutely no reason at all. “Mmm… anandamide and tryptophan neurotransmitters bouncing ‘round inside my head at this very moment, Martha Jones! I love me some transmitterssss. So much dopamine an’ serotonin an’… stuff. Lots and lots of ethanol in my belly at the momen’. Whiskey’s really good for numbing the senses, I ‘ave it ev’ry time I go there.”

Martha nearly choked on her own saliva. “What do you mean ‘every time’?” She glanced at his face, which was looking a lot happier the more she questioned his taste in alcoholic beverages.

As she expected, he was giggling again in a way that meant he was unable to understand what he was saying or admitting. “I like ‘aving multiple servings to get all loose. I can’t get drunk, since ‘m a Time Lord an’ all that, so I drink ‘s many ‘s I want.” His voice suddenly got louder as he exclaimed, “Unless I have ginger! Ginger makes me kinda…” He paused, as though to think of the right word as a hiccup made his body jump against hers. “…kinda loopy and make me unable to metabol… metabolz… metabolize ethanol.”

Martha wanted to laugh at him, but she couldn’t. The way the Doctor was talking made her question how often he did this to himself.

“… Doctor?”

“Hm?” the Doctor said, looking at her as he stumbled a bit, his specks falling off his nose slightly in a way that she couldn’t help but find a bit adorable.

“Is… is there anything wrong? Anything you want to talk about?”

“No, no, of course not!” he slurred, throwing his weight around. “’m always fine, Martha, I thought you knew that!”

Martha looked at the ground, thinking to herself. “Yeah, that’s what I thought…” 

She opened a door somewhere down the hall, which had what looked to be a random guest bedroom, though whether it was his room specifically she wasn’t sure. She was at least thankful that it came with a bathroom to her left, where the Doctor could hopefully run to if things got messy. 

It didn’t take long for the Doctor to settle himself on the bed as he buried himself in the covers. His face was so innocent, like a child, as he continued to giggle about nothing in particular. Martha never saw such a sight since she’s been onboard, and he always appeared so controlled whenever he was around her, friendly and excited for the next adventure yet always so guarded. 

Martha shook her head, sitting down on the bed beside him as though she were his own mother while the Doctor was somewhere out in his own little world. “Doctor?”

“Yes, Martha Jones, my brilliant companion?” the Doctor slurred. 

Martha tried not to blush, hating herself for the immediate reaction to his comments. “How are you feeling?”

As if on cue, the Doctor’s face contorted into an uncomfortable grimace as he turned on his side again. She heard his stomach retort loudly, and she couldn’t help but feel bad for him. He was starting to look pale again, his freckles more noticeable than she remembered them to be.

“Tummy ache,” he complained, putting a hand to his mouth. She saw him stiffen, and immediately she knew what was coming. Grabbing the nearest trashcan, she sprinted over to him at the last second just as he started retching. With her hand on his back for support, she waited for his body to relax as she shook her head. After a small cough, the Doctor lifted his head as his body shook out of shock. His forehead was covered in sweat, but he felt freezing cold.

It took another few retches and a bucket change for the Doctor to finally lie down on the bed, and he wanted to desperately get some sleep. He couldn’t stop shaking from the alcohol’s sugar, which meant that he had enough to get proper black-out sloshed. Brilliant, he wouldn’t remember much. However, no matter how soft the blankets were, or how layered his suit was, he still seemed to feel cold as he tried to burry himself into the mattress in an attempt to get warmer. 

Martha went into the bathroom to grab him a small glass of water, knowing he desperately needed the hydration, and not surprisingly the Doctor started talking again. Not that she ever expected him to stop talking regardless if he was sober. 

“Marthaaaa, don’t leave me!” 

She rolled his eyes at his whimpering, fed up with his behavior at this point, turning off the facet and set the water down on the little desk beside the bed. 

“Marthaaaaa… Martha, come baaaaack…” 

She turned back to him, and what she saw made her heart break.

He was on the verge of tears, the look in his eyes desperate and scared. It was strange since he was happy just minutes before he started throwing up, but his eyes looked wet with unshed tears. Martha bit her bottom lip, not sure what to do. Perhaps the Doctor was an emotional drunk, ironically enough.

“I… I don’t wanna do this an’more,” he said, sniffing. 

Martha couldn’t help but respond to him in a motherly fashion, pushing his hair away from his forehead and running her fingers through the top of his head. This made the Doctor turn into it, as though he was starving for the touch of another person. Judging by his eager determination to let her soft hands touch his cheek, it was clear that he was holding back something painful and detrimental to his sense of self.

“What don’t you want to do?” Martha said quietly, trying to be patient.

He sniffed again, and even though he was out of it he was trying not to cry and make himself vulnerable. “I don’… I don’ want to feel the guilt anymore. I wan’ their cries to stop tormenting me when I sleep. I jus’… hear the children scream as everything is burning and having emotions makes me want to tear myself in half. I want them gone. Take them away, Martha… please punish me for what ’ve done. ’ll always be a monster.” 

Martha shushed him, trying to get him to look at her and calm down and get out of his train of thought. She couldn’t bare seeing him in so much pain, and it ripped her heart in two to see him struggling in such a way that she never saw before. When he had revealed his past to her, albeit in vague ways, in that alleyway in New New York, he was detached and despondent in his explanations and descriptions. This layer the alcohol pulled back made her realize how much he was burying and hurting. Tears were dripping off of his chin in an attempt to not sob, and all she wanted to do was wrap him up in her arms. 

He suddenly leaned against her, putting his head in her lap as he sighed at her human warmth, since he couldn’t sit up and not sway from side to side in an attempt to get comfortable. Despite not drinking for a good while, he was still delirious. He would have never done this with her if he wasn’t coherent.

He didn’t look up at her, and instead was facing away from her body as he lay on her lap. He choked out a response: “I wan’ to die, Martha.”

Martha’s eyes widened in shock, her heart in her throat, as the Doctor’s fists tightened until his knuckles turned white. She grasped one of his hands, suddenly feeling scared of what he’ll do next as she unraveled his fingers. “Why would you say something like that?”

The Doctor swallowed, taking in a few breaths. “I hate feeling this… alone. I’d rather die than live ‘s long as I do. So many faces I’ve had an’ I wan’ this one to be the last. Just kill me now, Martha! I don’t deserve you. I don’ deserve any one of them. I don’ need anyone else, I just need to _stop existing_. I can’ take it anymore!” His eyes were ablaze, staring off into space with a wildness Martha never wanted to see again. She took his face in her hands and rubbed his cheeks as he let the floodgates open, soaking her leg. Martha was disturbed, if not frightened, by his behavior. She wishes he would take back the awful words he spoke, but she knew that he couldn’t control what he was talking about. She was struggling with tears herself and held them in for his sake. 

The Doctor stayed in her lap for a long time as she stroked his head, fingers in his hair, as she seemed to have calmed him down. By now he was starting to drift off. He was still awake, but his breathing had calmed, his eyes hooded and drooping heavily. He was so eerily still that she wondered if this was the same Doctor she had dropped everything to travel with.

“Martha?” she heard him ask softly, startling her. She thought he had fallen asleep right in her lap.

“Yeah?”

“’m thirsty…” 

Reluctant to move when everything was so serene, she reached out for the glass of water that she left on the bed stand and helped the Time Lord sit up. Just by lifting his head she could tell every movement was torture as he reacted dizzily to his surroundings. He was successful in taking the glass of water, and at first, he was having difficulty in bringing it to his lips. He was soon gulping down large mouthfuls in an attempt to relieve his parched throat.

“Hey, hey, easy!” Martha said, holding the bottom of the glass of water until he finished. “Baby sips, Doctor, baby sips. We don’t want you getting sick again, all right?”

Suddenly, the Doctor lurched in the opposite direction as a hiccup surprised them both, causing him to blush. 

The Doctor laughed to himself, suddenly looking contemplative. “Weird thing, hiccups… no one really knows why they happen or how. Some say ‘s ‘cause millions of years ago before we were lil tetrapods crawlin’ onto land, brain circuitry that’s responsible for gill movements continued millennia into mammal evolution, which transcended into embryonic development for sucklin’.” Almost in response, he bit back another hiccup. “’s too bad we still have to deal with it, some 370 million years later. How inefficient.”

His companion let out a long sigh, about ready to shove him into a black hole. “Just… just _go to sleep_ , please.” Rubbing her face and getting up from the bed, she was on her way out the door. By now she was exhausted and planned on making up for lost hours. As she expected, she didn’t get too far.

“Wait!” the Doctor cried out. He was reaching out for her, as if to grasp her hand. 

Martha turned back around, about ready to throw the nearest pillow at him to shut his gob. “Yes?” she said, scowling. The Doctor seemed to recognize her irritation and shrunk back slightly, feeling shy.

“Stay with me?” 

Tired, Martha asked with droopy eyes, “Why?”

“I don’t want to be alone.” 

For a moment, Martha thought she heard his old voice again, but remembering his emotional breakdown just minutes ago, she tried to tell herself that it was the Jack Daniels talking. His eyes pleaded with her, and she could tell that he was truly scared. Based on what he told her tonight, she couldn’t help but feel for him. How could she leave him alone, after everything he admitted to her? She didn’t trust him in that regard. With her hand still on the doorknob she contemplated whether or not to agree to the idea.

“Please don’t leave me,” he said, looking on the verge of tears again.

She smiled softly, sympathy in her gaze. “All right.”

The Doctor’s smile was huge as he let out a loud squeal of delight, flopping down on the bed and bringing the covers up to his chin. Before Martha could scoot in next to him, she helped him get a few layers of clothing off of his body to prepare him for sleep. He protested along the way and complained about being cold, but he did little to stop her. The moment Martha was under the covers the Doctor seemed to have drifted off again, but he was still awake as he looked at her.

Martha shut her eyes, turning over to sleep, but the Doctor had other ideas.

“Martha?” 

“Yes?” She turned back over, looking almost as tired as the Doctor.

“I meant what I said, you know.” She could have sworn she saw a hint of clarity in his gaze, but they were still hazy and black as ever. “I don’ deserve you. You’re brilliant an’ ‘m being a right fool, I am. I wouldn’ blame you if you left. They all do in the end.”

Martha held back tears. “Doctor, that’s enough, now, yeah? Try to get some sleep. You look knackered."

The Doctor smiled, though it wasn’t a goofy one this time. It seemed genuine, as though he listened to what she had to say and processed it past the alcohol-induced daze. It didn’t take much longer for the Doctor to drift off to sleep for good, his breathing deep, and laying as still as a statue. Martha sighed with relief.

Once she turned over, she felt a weight around her waist, and to her surprise, she felt the Doctor had pulled himself closer to her, the warmth of his body cozying up to her as he spooned her. He hummed pleasantly in his sleep, as though the touch of a friend was the last thing keeping him from losing his mind. And it just might be, if Martha was guessing.

Martha couldn’t stop herself from feeling heat blossom in her abdomen, feeling him so close to her and knowing for certain that she was in trouble. She was falling for this man and she hated every minute of it. 

_Stop with those butterflies, Martha. He’s drunk, remember?_

Martha looked at his peaceful face, hoping that he somehow remembered what had happened between them. She kissed his forehead, not helping herself, as she neatened his wild hair. 

She tried not to think of the Doctor’s reasons for this strange night as she shut her eyes, waiting for the next morning with minimal enthusiasm. She had hoped that this night of openness wouldn’t scare him away from ever getting to know him.

**Author's Note:**

> I removed the parts about Lazarus and reworked it because I didn’t really think that made sense. Idk what I was thinking when I wrote this originally, though I think I was struck by the similarities between the Doctor and him at the time, hence why I included it. When I rewatched series 3 during my finals though, the third episode, Gridlock, felt like it made more sense in this context, hence the change.


End file.
